


A Place Where You Belong

by Mercarie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But just a little, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Milton deserves happiness 2k17, Non-Canon Relationship, Reader-Insert, i'm emotionally stuck in season 3, i'm writing 'reader' but i really mean me, just to be clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 08:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10963137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercarie/pseuds/Mercarie
Summary: A quiet night in Woodbury.





	A Place Where You Belong

At this time of night, things generally settle into a regular, peaceful rhythm. 

Woodbury's residents retreat to their homes for the night to put their children to sleep behind locked doors and drawn curtains, though slowly they are learning to let go of the fear that has kept them alive so long. Learning to put their faith in the wall, and in the people that guard it, and every night there are a few more midnight stragglers and open windows.

At night there is a trust here that the daylight can't quite touch, when Woodbury sleeps and breathes as one unified beast and allows itself to be flooded by the white of a clear moon. The suspicions that flourish under a raging Georgia sun find no purchase here, no heart to grab hold of and wring with savage hatred, and steady for a while. Men with rifles stand ready to defend their people, and the dreams of children learning to be adults far faster than they should flicker past serene and untroubled because of it. Rivals by day share cigarettes and swap increasingly unbelievable stories of walker kills by night, their laughter echoing in the dim streets. Dick-measuring contests (for the moment, at least) are set aside, and Woodbury thrums with one calm, constant heartbeat.

Tucked in the circle of Milton's arm, you feel that beat inside of him, that toneless whisper of _this is where you belong._ For a long time, you thought assimilation into this odd little post-apocalyptic town was a distant impossibility, that your heart would always beat the smallest half-step out of sync, but when you touch your fingers to Milton's pulse you realize it finally matches your own. That it whispers that same reminder:  
_This where you both belong._

The moon slants in through the thin curtains and sets the edges of his normally neat hair aglow, his face shadowed and soft in the darkness. He always curls around you in his sleep, shielding you with his body as if to make certain you're safe in all the ways he can't guarantee when you guard the wall. You trace 'I love you' into his skin over and over idly, listening to his deep, even breathing like your favourite song, and lean forward to lightly press your lips to his forehead when his arm tightens around you. Milton stirs, but does not awaken. 

There will be bloodshed tomorrow, just as there was bloodshed the day before, and the day before that. There will be gunfire, and walkers, and blood and dirt and an animal, screaming fear of the world ending all over again.

But not here.

Not now.

Not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> If no one is gonna write your Milton/reader trash, might as well write it yourself. 
> 
> Throw fic ideas at me on Tumblr:  
> paladindansepants.tumblr.com


End file.
